


winston learns to dance

by orphan_account



Series: winston and o'brien get a life [1]
Category: 1984 - George Orwell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, and also the party's more relaxed on their monitoring, don't question this ok i literally just wanted an excuse to write them dancing together, the canon divergence is that winston has shitty joints and gets forced to take an exercise program, the ending's shit because it was 6am and i wanted to finish this, you can tell what kind of quality this is gonna be i'm so sorry ao3 people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When you're an old bastard with a leg problem, mandatory exercise programs are a pain in the ass.Winston's just lucky that he has an experienced partner to help him out.





	winston learns to dance

“This way, Winston.”

Upon hearing his name, Winston’s head jerked upwards to meet the eyes of the man guiding him. O’Brien smiled, his hand pushing against Winston’s back as he glided backwards. The movement prompted Winston to follow, falling clumsily over his own feet.

“Um, I’m sorry,” he stumbled, almost falling into O’Brien’s chest. O’Brien merely smiled back at him, helping him regain his posture.

“It’s no problem,” he replied, placing a gentle hand on Winston’s shoulder. “The footing is difficult to get a hold of at first. I trust that you will learn, in time.”

Winston merely nodded in response, his heart rate rising slightly at O’Brien’s comforting touch. 

It was the first time he had been at the man’s Inner Party apartment, and it certainly wasn’t what he expected. Of course, it was a paradise compared to Winston’s own Outer Party flat, and was furnished with far more lavish items and articles than Winston would have thought existed, and yet the place still held the impression of not being all that it was made out to be. Nevertheless, it was a very fitting apartment for a man such as O’Brien, and it had plenty of space for the party’s required health activities. O’Brien was even able to switch off the telescreen for them both, a feat Winston didn’t believe was possible before he had seen it with his own eyes.

O’Brien’s hand touched his arm gently, and his gaze remained upon Winston as he moved towards him. “Hands, Winston,” he prompted gently, his face only just visible from the dim orange lamplight coating the room.

“O-Oh, yes,” Winston said, quickly moving his arm up to hold O’Brien’s hand. How could he have forgotten? 

O’Brien gave a warm smile, his eyes closing as he guided Winston to the right. “That’s it,” he said, his voice hushed slightly as the music behind him began to fade out. 

He opened his eyes slowly as the two finished their movement. “Do you have the hang of it, Winston?” he asked, his tone as benevolent as always.

“…Yes, I think I have it now,” Winston stammered to himself, letting go of O’Brien’s hand. Dancing was harder than he’d thought it would be, even if it was just for some Party exercise program. He was just lucky that he’d ended up with somebody as experienced as O’Brien for his partner. 

“That’s good, then. You’re a fast learner, Winston.” He caught Winston’s gaze in the light, and Winston felt his insides flutter.

He laughed to himself. “I-I’m sorry, I’m not as experienced as you,” he admitted bashfully. “Thank you for helping me out.”

O’Brien looked slightly surprised at this answer, and laid a gentle hand on Winston’s back. “Don’t apologise,” he said. “I’m telling the truth. What reason would I have to lie?”

Winston evaluated the honesty in what O’Brien said and smiled to himself, looking away from O’Brien. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” O’Brien responded, picking a list from the armchair nearby. Winston turned his gaze to him and watched as he stared at it pensively for a little while. Eventually, he turned the list towards Winston, his glasses glowing a deep orange against the light’s reflection. “We could attempt #146 next, if you’d like,” he said, giving what seemed to Winston to be a genuine smile.

“#146…” Winston said to himself, trying to recall what he had been taught. “O-Of course. Only if that’s okay with you,” he finished. 

O’Brien nodded his head in agreement and crouched down to change the record on the floor. Winston watched as he turned back around, his posture still as impeccable as it was when they had both started their practice session. As he took Winston’s hands in his own and pulled him backwards, Winston felt a burning sensation within his chest. 

The movements were fairly simple. Winston knew that much from the demonstrations that he and O’Brien had completed during the class. Even so, there was something about the atmosphere surrounding the two of them right now that made Winston ten times more nervous than he had been previously. He looked into O’Brien’s eyes as he leant forwards, letting go of his hands and clasping both of his own together behind O’Brien’s neck.

O’Brien’s strong arms held his back and pulled Winston closer to him. “Arched back, Winston,” he hummed to himself, smiling as Winston’s head bumped the bottom of his chin.

“R-Right.” Winston arched his back, looking straight into O’Brien’s serene blue eyes as he did so. O’Brien’s face was now inches away from his own, and Winston swore he felt his chest imploding in upon itself. 

O’Brien simply continued the dance, moving backwards slightly against the wooden floor. He let go of Winston’s back with one hand and gently cushioned it against Winston’s jaw. “That’s it, Winston,” he whispered. 

Winston felt O’Brien’s breath against his face, and felt the sudden impulsive desire to kiss him. He closed his eyes, destroying the thought immediately. He’d definitely be killed if he did that, most likely by O’Brien himself. Even if the Inner Party member was a thoughtcriminal, Winston knew that he’d have no problem reporting anybody that got in his way, whether romantically or not.

Even still, though, Winston’s breath hitched as O’Brien’s head moved to rest upon his shoulder, and he held his back weakly. Winston felt O’Brien’s breath on the back of his neck as O’Brien carefully moved his hands across Winston’s back. 

Winston was too busy losing his mind over the sensation of O’Brien holding him to realise that O’Brien had pushed forwards. At the unexpected movement, the two collapsed into a disgruntled pile on the floor.  
Opening his eyes from the unexpected crash, Winston silently cursed himself for ruining the routine. He turned over swiftly with the intention of getting back up, only to find two hands either side of his body. He turned his gaze upwards.

O’Brien stared at Winston, his body seemingly frozen. His customary glasses were absent from his face – Winston assumed they’d been knocked off during the fall – and the man’s hair fell below him. His expression was hesitant, almost worried. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, and then closed it again.

Winston lay and watched as O’Brien didn’t move from his position. Slowly, he rose up closer to O’Brien, placing a hand on his back as he did so. The other man’s face flushed, his worn eyes gleaming with uncertainty in the light, and Winston couldn’t take the ridiculous amount of tension anymore.

In a moment of what was either bravery or stupidity, he pulled O’Brien into him.

Their lips crashed together, a mixture of desperation and longing evident in the action. Winston melted into the kiss, unsure but not unhappy at all by the contact, and placed his free hand on O’Brien’s shoulder. He could taste a trace of fine wine on the other man’s chapped, rough lips, possibly from when he was drinking earlier, not so long ago and yet still miles apart from the position they were both in now.

O’Brien broke off for a second to catch his breath, and then pressed his lips up against Winston’s once more, practically pinning him to the ground as he towered above him. Even now, Winston thought to himself, O’Brien was trying to be in control: he was touching Winston’s hands, changing his position up every once in a while, guiding Winston in what to do. Winston knew what he should do on his own, of course, but the added security O’Brien brought to him made him feel protected, even if O’Brien himself wasn’t exactly fully prepared for the situation at hand.

Eventually, Winston broke the kiss off, opening his eyes as he did so. O’Brien remained on top of him, still seeming dazed from the moment they’d both shared.

Winston smiled awkwardly. “…Arched back, O’Brien.”

O’Brien’s face turned red as picked himself up off the floor. “…Oh, yes,” he said, seeming almost flustered as he picked himself from the floor. “O-Okay, Winston. …Let’s try this again, shall we?”

Bringing himself up from his own position, Winston let O’Brien take his hand within his own, the light of the lamp covering them both even still. Grinning, he spoke one last time before the two of them began the routine once more. “Y-Yes, let’s.”

Maybe this wasn’t as horrible as he thought it would be.

**Author's Note:**

> ok i didn't expect my dumb hyperfixation on this book to last for as long as it's lasting, but it has and now i'm all alone with no more content to feed me. 
> 
> for this reason i've made the horrible executive decision to spend my free time writing awful o'brinston fics that probably violate the english language in a solid, like, 5645968455 places. even if they only have 1000 words. yes, it's THAT bad.
> 
> i'm sorry in advance for ruining this good tag. for £8000 i will stop (but probably not i care about them too much to do that to myself lmao)
> 
> anyway thank you for reading! (even if you regret it now!)


End file.
